The Revenge Affair

Elira Monroe stepped out of the luxury mall, the automatic glass doors whispering shut behind her as the late afternoon sun dipped low over the skyline. A stack of branded shopping bags swayed from her left hand-Gucci, Cartier, Tom Ford-all carefully chosen for one man. In her right hand, her phone was pressed to her ear as her older sister's voice poured through the speaker like boiling oil.

"Elira, I'm telling you, break up with Jason already! That boy does not deserve you!"

Elira rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the slight curve tugging at the corners of her lips. "Big sis, take a chill pill," she said with a light laugh as she crossed the parking lot to her sleek, midnight blue BMW i8. "That's what you always say. You still see me as some helpless teenager, but I'm twenty-three, not thirteen. Besides, Jason promised to wait until our wedding night. That means something."

"That boy's promises mean jack shit," Sabrina growled. "God, Elira. I know you're in love, but I didn't realize you were also dumb."

Elira stiffened, her hand frozen on the door handle.

"Excuse me?"

"I said what I said," Sabrina snapped. "You're ignoring every damn red flag like they're rose petals. Jason flirts with every woman with a pulse! He's charming, I'll give him that-but so was his Dad, remember? And you know how that ended. His father-Malcolm-impregnated a girl younger than Jason when he was younger than your present age, and guess what? Jason is walking the same damn path!"

Elira tried to laugh it off as she tossed the gift bags into the front passenger seat. "Jason's just...friendly," she muttered. "He likes people. That's not a crime."

Sabrina groaned like she was about to burst a blood vessel. "Friendly? You call him smiling with his teeth at your friends and texting flirty emojis at 2AM being friendly? Girl, if a man looks like a player, acts like a player, and talks like a damn player-he's a player!"

Sliding into the driver's seat, Elira slammed the door and started the engine. The quiet hum of the car was a poor distraction from the storm building in her chest. "You know what, Sabrina?" she bit out. "I appreciate you trying to protect me. I really do. But can you just focus on your own family for once and let me deal with mine?"

"Elira-"

"No!" Her voice cracked, louder than intended. "Whatever happens between Jason and me is my business. He said he'd propose soon. We've been together for six years. SIX! Don't act like he's some stranger I just met on the street. You'll be at our engagement party, wearing that smug little face while I stand there glowing because the man you've been demonizing actually loves me."

"Elira-"

But she didn't give her sister the chance to finish. Her thumb jabbed the red button and the call disconnected. She tossed her phone to the seat beside her like it burned. "Damn it!"

Her chest rose and fell with quick, angry breaths. The last thing she wanted was to yell at her sister. Sabrina had been there through everything-school bullies, heartbreaks, college chaos-but she had no right to keep judging Jason. Elira sighed, fingers gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned pale. She was literally both her father and mother.

"I'll apologize later," she whispered to herself. "She's just worried, that's all." With that, she ignited the car and drove off.

--

The drive to Jason's penthouse was a smooth one. As traffic melted around her, memories of him filled her mind like blooming wildflowers.

He used to wait for her outside her high school gates, even when it rained.

He gave her his varsity jacket even though it meant getting detention for dress code.

They pulled all-nighters studying together, then held each other until sleep claimed them.

He cried at her graduation. She had never seen him cry before.

Today was special-his birthday and their six-year anniversary. She had gone all out: rare cologne he mentioned once in passing, a handwritten letter, and a bracelet engraved with "Always yours, Elira."

The car slowed to a stop in front of the towering Vale Residences. The building shimmered in the sunset, all glass and steel, like a crown for the privileged. She adjusted her hair in the mirror-soft waves pinned to one side-and reapplied a dab of gloss. She looked radiant. Confident. In love.

She gathered her bags, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the main entrance. The fingerprint scanner blinked green under her touch.

The door slid open.